


Thranduil's Paramor

by Things_are_happening



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Adventure, F/M, Fake Names, Fluff, Happy Ending, Lake-town, Legolas saves the day, Lies, One Shot, Orcs, Peril, Pregnancy, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Things_are_happening/pseuds/Things_are_happening
Summary: She gripped her skirts, ready to bolt at any moment, but there were too many. They were approaching too quickly, the snarls and hissings of Orcs surrounding, ready to pounce and make a meal of her. Sure, she supposed, that she knew there would be dangers the farther she got from her home, but death by orcs on the edge of the green elven woods certainly wasn’t on her radar.





	Thranduil's Paramor

**Author's Note:**

> AN: listen, I saw a prompt and had a really weird dream so I don’t even know what this is. The OC doesn’t even have a name because I usually don’t write them, so insert yourself if that’s what you’re about
> 
> Elvish language is thanks to the internet, mistakes potential.
> 
> Set some time post battle of the five armies, when Legolas leaves and the aftermath of Smaug is cleaned up, but what even is continuity.

She gripped her skirts, ready to bolt at any moment, but there were too many. They were approaching too quickly, the snarls and hissings of Orcs surrounding, ready to pounce and make a meal of her. Sure, she supposed, that she knew there would be dangers the farther she got from her home, but death by orcs on the edge of the green elven woods certainly wasn’t on her radar. 

One, perhaps the leader of the small group - she counted five orcs altogether forming a circle of attack - started forward, angry and marled mouth hissing and drooling. 

“Stay back!” She commanded them in Nandorian, stirring up as much courage as her trembling would allow. It was almost as though they laughed, chuckling at the human’s pitiful attempt at self-preservation.

But just as they made to pounce, armed with various crude weapons, a sharp whistle from above suddenly drew their attention. The next thing she saw was an arrow, deftly planting itself in the largest orc’s eye socket, his heavy frame falling to the ground.

A battle cry rang out from the remaining four, and the arrows shot so fast from changing directions she figured there must have been an army of sentries sent after her to bring her back. 

Clutching her stomach, she backed up against a tree as one by one each of the vile orcs went down. This wasn’t what she wanted.

Then she remembered the small dagger in her ankle holster but figured it wouldn’t do much good anyway. 

She tried not to shriek as a sudden, singular figure dropped from the tree above her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked her back in the same language she’d used earlier, voice smooth and worried. Blinking in surprise, she realized the man was an elf. A given, considering she was still within the borders of the expansive Mirkwood. 

“I-“ She started, then stopped to catch her breath, heart still pounding from the near attack. “Thank you.” She remembered her manners as soon as she saw the elf wasn’t clothed in guard or warrior robes. In fact, his minimal armor and leather straps looked… commonplace. Relief washed through her system that she wasn’t going to be dragged back or put down on the spot for her decision. 

“What are you doing in these woods?” He gave her a once over, and she was glad she wore her own commoner attire, practical rags compared to her usual gowns that had been stored in her trunk for years. 

“Leaving them, if you can believe.” She gave her rescuer a soft smile and he returned the curtesy. “And what are you doing around these parts?” The nearest village wasn’t close by and they both knew it.

“Returning home.” He said honestly, then gave the woods around them a glance. “Where is your destination? The eastern edge of the woods are not as safe as they used to be.” 

“…Lake Town.” In truth, she hadn’t really thought that far ahead, the bulk of her planning being primarily getting her to this point. 

“Ah.” He nodded, apparently accepting what she’d said. Well, she was obviously human and that was the nearest human populated town. Plenty of places to hide out, now that she mulled over it. 

“The path there is treacherous and not wise to tread alone. You have no companion?” 

“I will make it. I have reason to.” She insisted although she didn’t hold any fear about the stranger, especially not when he’d just saved her life.

“Then I shall accompany you.” He came to the conclusion and offered a hand. 

“What about your journey home?” She asked first, not wanting to delay any reunion. 

“I’ve been away a while, a bit more won’t make a difference.” The elf admitted. He was genuine, and she appreciated it. 

“Call me… Miah.” The name was popular enough for human females and she didn’t want to give him any connections in case he’d seen her before and put together the pieces. 

“…Orryan.” Similarly enough, the name he gave her was among the more common, but she wouldn’t begrudge the elf his own privacy. “Come, we have a way to make before nightfall.” 

 

She fell in step with Orryan’s smooth pace, taking in how his eyes constantly scanned for any obstacle to their journey.

He didn’t ask what her business was that lead her there, and in turn, she did not ask of his.

“Thank you again, for your bravery. The orcs would have torn me limb from limb if you hadn’t saved my life. I am in debt to you.” She drew his attention to her, though they kept walking through the woods, cutting their own path. He seemed in tune with the woods around them, more at home than any actual home she tried to picture. 

“I have lost many friends to orcs. I could not stand by when I heard their approach from the east.” Orryan confessed. 

“Thank you nonetheless. If I had anything to repay you with, I would.” She gave him her gratitude. 

It wasn’t more than a few hours at most when the darkness of night finally approached, and Orryan insisted on settling until morning. Thankfully it was still the harvest season and chill wouldn’t set in for another fortnight or two at least. She picked a spot to spend the night under the stars and her elven companion scouted the area for any lingering malicious creatures. 

“Three great spiders up ahead. Of no concern of ours anymore.” Orryan informed her with a nod. “It should be four days, no longer until we reach the docks to lake town. Sleep, if you can.” 

 

The next morning she woke before dawn, Orryan stirring as well nearby. 

She pulled one of the wraps of Lembas from her coat and broke off a piece, offering the same to her new elven friend as they walked.

The day was long, but the beauty of the forest and the comfortable silence of her companion made quick time of it.

The day came to a close, twilight creeping in, and Orryan nodded that their place on the path was a good place to stop.

“There is a river here if you are going to bathe, I suggest you do it now.” He let her know, cocking his head in the right direction. 

“I will.” She relished the opportunity. It had taken her two days of sweaty walking and hiding to get to where she met the Orcs, and her clothes were beginning to stick to her skin. 

The stream wasn’t far away, she could hear the babbling of the water in earshot and there was a large rock to undress by. The water was cool to the touch and refreshing. Her swollen feet were soothed and she could spot a few silver fish swim by. 

A few dips under did the trick, washing away the grime. For a moment it was like the grand baths she’d gotten used to like none of this ever happened and she could go to bed surrounded by opulent warmth. 

She left her outermost coat off, only wearing her breast band and linen dress over her boots as she dried. 

But apparently, she had left at the right time because Orryan’s eyes were unmistakably staring at her midsection, particularly the way the damp cloth clung to her newly formed bump. She’d been hiding it the last few weeks, as soon as she knew. But it wasn’t going to stay small very long, she’d seen the elder ladies in the villages growing up. 

“Are you-?” Orryan finally formed words when she sat down next to him on the log he’d chosen, the moonlight bright through the trees, his voice worried again.

“With child.” She nodded, the first person she’d admitted it to. 

“And the father? He just left you to fend for yourself this far from home?” Orryan sounded aghast.

“The father… doesn’t know.” She was final in her words, taking a deep breath and accepting the gathered berried he’d collected in his pouch.

“I understand.” The resolute tone in Orryan’s voice sounded real. 

“Any children yourself?” She lightened the conversation, turning it on the elf. 

“No.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sadly I’ve not had the opportunity for a moment long enough between adventures to raise one.” 

 

Sometime, not much long later, she drifted to sleep and slept soundly, the river a rhythmic, calming lullaby. 

 

“Wake.” A quiet but precise instruction jolted her from a dream. She didn’t make a noise but nodded in agreement. Orryan’s face looked cautious and he silently helped her to a stand, offering a leg up into the nearest tree. “Quiet. I hear footsteps approaching.”

She made herself as concealed among the low hanging branches as she could, staying still while peering through the leaves to where Orryan walked a distance away and took out his bow, appearing to clean it. Last second, he pulled up the hood on his cloak and bent his posture to portray old age. Whoever it was that approached, he didn’t want to honest with them. 

Not a moment later and two identifiable guards in military colors came down the path, stopping when they saw the fellow elf. Her hiding place was far but not so far that she couldn’t strain to hear what they said. 

Perhaps she would have understood, but it was Orryan who spoke first, choosing to speak in an accent deep in North Sindarin dialect too old for her to understand much more than a phrase or two. 

They were going to ask for her, she knew it. All was right in the realm elsewhere. There was no reason for guards to patrol other than by direct command. 

Every second that passed bundled the nerves in her stomach.

But minutes came and went and she could hardly believe her eyes when the guards did too. She stayed frozen in the tree long after they passed until Orryan came himself to bring her down. The sunlight of day began to creep over the horizon, casting a warm glow as she looked at the compassionate elf for answers. 

“You didn’t give me away to the guards.” She couldn’t help the sentence tumbling out of her mouth, inadvertently confessing to whatever crime they might have placed on her. Orryan looked understanding again.

“Considering you’re not wearing stolen treasurers nor couldn’t fight off an orc, I doubt whatever it is you’ve done has been of much harm.” He professed. “Better to get you home and let whatever has happened pass.” 

“Thank you.” Her lip trembled and she couldn’t help but reach forth and embrace her tall traveling companion. He didn’t return it, but his face when she pulled back couldn’t hide the pleasant surprise.

“We must go. Lake Town is two days journey now.”

“Alright.” She nodded with a small smile and stepped in pace once again 

 

They reached the final stretch of the way to the docks that would lead to Lake Town that night, the final evening of the four-day journey. They’d been lucky, she supposed, not to run into anything else too treacherous this far from the center of Mirkwood. Although, Orryan had been looking out the whole time and she had a suspicion of his decades of training despite his plainclothes and simple bow. 

It wasn’t yet the crisp autumnal season, but the lake’s proximity had a chilling effect, bringing in a cool breeze. They lit a fire that night and wordlessly settled in, tired from the journey that brought them there. Again, she was appreciative of the elf and how they worked seamlessly in tandem along the way. 

 

Orryan graciously let her sleep until dawn the next morning, considering this was the final bit of their trip. 

“Is it really Lake Town you’re headed for? Do you have family there?” He asked curiously while they ate breakfast of berries and lembas over the embers of the fire while they readied to leave. He deserved the answer to the question. 

“I don’t know.” She was honest. “I was raised in the villages near Doriath and Menegroth. It would take many weeks to journey there and I’m not sure I want to. Lake Town seems as good a place as any since the rebuilding.” Orryan looked surprised she was from so far away. It did nothing to explain why she was in Mirkwood in the first place. 

“But you will be safe, yes? I know good people in the heart of Lake Town who would take you in.” Orryan offered.

“You are too kind.” She shook her head with a smile. “You save me, you protect me, and you ask nothing in return.” 

“Perhaps you’ve done me a favor as well.” He admitted. “I have not been home in near half a decade and I should have ages ago.”

“Any excuse not to see family?” She smirked, knowing. 

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Although if Lake Town is not your destination I am sure my home could offer temporary refuge while proper arrangements are made. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness as well. I’m sure whatever trouble you’ve been in can’t be hard to pardon.” 

“I don’t think to stay in Mirkwood is wise at the moment, but I think I’m crafty enough to make it by in the Town.” She pursed her lips.

“Crafty?” Orryan looked unconvinced. “You’re defenseless and with child.” 

“In fact, I am not defenseless.” She rolled her eyes. “I brought a dagger with me, it’s not my fault there were too many orcs.” 

“Oh. A dagger.” Orryan looked far from impressed. “And how exactly would you use it? Show me.” 

“Weak spots are the most effective, I’m told, but I’ve never actually used it on anyone.” She lifted her skirt enough to pull the slim, light dagger from its holster around her ankle, gripping it in her dominant hand before passing it over to Orryan’s open palm to learn a more proper technique. His face dropped suddenly as he looked at it. 

“Where-“ He looked at her seriously. “Where did you get this?” 

“It was a gift. A gesture of goodwill.” She suddenly remembered the delicate crest imprinted in the hilt. While some of the noble families among the branches of elves, this was one to be recognized. 

“Something is not right. What exactly was a human doing in Mirkwood, one on the run, with this dagger nonetheless?” Her usually calm companion turned the tables on her in accusation. 

“I didn’t ask you to save me. I’m grateful you did. But I have a feeling you have secrets of your own and all I want is safety for me and my child so I’ll be on my way now.” She stood and turned, hoping he’d leave it at that. 

“Wait.” The elf conceded. “In truth, I’ve lied to you as well.” 

“I gathered that.” She shot back. “I don’t mind, so long as you don’t pry into mine.” 

“But this -“ He held up the dagger. “I cannot lie any longer. Miah, my true name is Legolas. I’ve been away fighting alongside the dwarves in the Iron Hills for some time now. This crest - this is my house. And if I’m not mistaken, it belongs to my father- the King’s - personal collection.” He pulled out a small leather-bound ledger from his breast pocket with the same crest stamped on its cover and she sucked in a breath. “So in fact, this is absolutely my business.” 

“You’re Legolas?” She sat back down in disbelief, eyes beginning to wet with unshed tears. “You’ve been away, but I’ve heard the stories.” She sniffed. “Curse my luck.” She shook her head, but Legolas was still looking at her for answers. “I’m the King’s Paramour.” 

“What?” He honestly didn’t believe the words she was saying, it didn’t make sense to him. His father? Take an illicit lover? He’d heard rumors of a few affairs over the century, and the king was certainly entitled to, but actually picturing the elder man keeping a woman in his chambers? No. No, it couldn’t be. “How is this?” He needed clarification.

“I don’t know,” She laughed a little in disbelief, wiping a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “A few years ago the Elvenking was touring the realms when I caught his curiosity.” She took a breath and Legolas ruminated on her words. “I ran the only tavern in a small village the caravan was stopping in for the evening and I’d never seen someone like him pass through.” She confessed. “The King caught my attention as well and somehow he offered me a place should I be open to his whims.” Legolas sat back. “And yes, I took it. It was more excitement than I’d ever had. And the King, he was gracious.” She smiled. “Both kind to me and bold in bed.” 

Legolas held up a hand that that was too much information.

“There are methods to prevent pregnancy, but given there’s never been a halfling exactly like this, I guess we didn’t take every precaution.” She looked down at her stomach. “I am loyal to the king, I am his in every way, and as such, I want to raise and protect this child.”

“So you ran?” Legolas didn’t understand, his home was one of the most well guarded and prosperous places in all the realms.

“You think the king would really welcome this child?” She looked at him earnestly. “If I stay, if I’m allowed, it’d be a bastard at best. We all deserve a fighting chance.”  
Legolas put his head in his palms, taking the new information in properly. 

“I’m sorry.” She felt the need to apologize. He never agreed to the dilemma before him. 

“The guard, that came, my father truly does not know?”   
She shook her head. “I ran away. I did not tell him about the child.” 

“Then you don’t know for sure.” Legolas suddenly looked positive, eyes hopeful. “The king may be ruthless in battle and known for his efficiency in ruling, but I cannot honestly believe he would forsake his own child. Even in all he has disagreed of my decisions, I know I can call upon his support.” 

“So what? We return to the palace? Five days have gone since I ran.” She shook her head, wiping the stray tears. 

“Yes. But I will be by your side. I will call audience with the King.”

“And should he cast me out?” She couldn’t face the rejection. 

“Then I will personally take you to safety. I do not know you well, but you carry my sibling, halfling or not. I will not let anything happen.” Legolas promised. 

“Then we go.” She shook her head in disbelief. Just a moment ago she was cursing her luck, but it seems the universe had come into alignment to bring her exactly what she needed. 

 

Legolas knew the quickest way back to the palace, not longer than the day’s journey along the river into the heart - she’d inadvertently put on a few extra days by starting out in the wrong direction and having to follow the edges of the forest to get where they currently were. 

And so by nightfall, just as the moonlight down and washed everything aglow, the unlikely pair reached the grand entrance gates. 

“Here.” Legolas took off his cloak and put it on her shorter frame, pulling the hood up as he had before the guards, concealing her identity from first glance. “You never know what we’ll be walking into in there.” 

She nodded and followed close behind, the approach daunting, especially flanked by guards. 

But apparently said guards recognized Legolas and were quick to open the large wooden doors for them. 

“Cóon Legolas.” They said in unison with respective nods in Sindarin, the primary language of the house. He paid it no mind and continued forward. The sight of the place she’d come to call home never ceased to amaze. 

The King’s throne sat not far from the entrance, elevated and elaborately made. Thranduil was conversing with a guard by his side when the presence of a guest was announced. 

“I’m about to join the festivities, who is it?” Rang out the timbre of the King’s voice. 

“Legolas has returned,” Legolas said himself, standing tall and immediately drawing the attention of his father. 

“The Prince of the Woodland realm joins us again at last.” There was a smirk on the Elvenking’s face and he stood to clasp Legolas on the shoulder. “I do not come alone. May we convene privately?” Thranduil looked behind Legolas and saw her. Her hood had fallen back slightly so that her features were apparent. 

“Mui aran.” She addressed him formally in Sindarin with a small curtsey, knowing her position. She almost missed the King’s expression tense.

“Privately it is. To my chambers.” He acquiesced, long jacket seemingly floating along the ground as his quick steps took their small party to his private sitting room.   
Upon entering, the King strode directly across the room, fists clenched. 

“Six days you were gone and I did not know what had become of you.” Thranduil’s voice was low and he turned, letting the mask slip. “It’s as if you’ve bewitched me, I could do nothing but writhe as I awaited a word of what had happened.” He addressed her directly. She closed her eyes, she’d be lying if he wasn’t everything she thought about the further away she had gotten.

“Orcs nearly ate her until I stepped in.” Legolas contributed, but clearly, that wasn’t what the King wanted to hear. 

“You put yourself in this danger for what? To be rid of me?” Thranduil circled closer in disbelief. 

“Father-“ Legolas started, ready to calm down the King while she gathered her thoughts. 

“I’m carrying your child.” She blurted out, and the words stopped Thranduil in his tracks. Her hands cradled the small bump concealed by Legolas’s cloak. 

The moment was silent as she watched the usually stoic monarch process through a dozen emotions at once, taking a seat. 

“You have been everything to me, but because I want to protect this child, I feared the worst.” She was candid. “Your son saved me and brought me back.” 

“I need to think this over,” Thranduil admitted. 

“Of course.” She nodded. He was king. He had a decision to make to uphold tradition and reputation. Naturally, he knew the risks and every scenario that might come about from this.

“We will discuss later.” His tone was neutral, neither hope nor dismay conveyed in her direction. “But I am pleased upon your safe return.” 

She nodded in acknowledgment and turned away as he addressed his son.

“Legolas, join me at the feast. I am sure some will be entertained by your tales of the dwarves.” At that last part, he expressed exasperation and she was confident that perhaps, just maybe, this might have been a good idea. 

The doors closed behind the royals with the thump of wood on wood and she was left alone. Gathering herself, the fact that Thranduil accepted the complication and decided to think about the next move was a better sign than outright rejection. 

He really was everything to her. And his admittance that he worried over her? No. Did he think of her in the same way? She was human, a guest who served at the whim of the king. There was no way he saw her as more than that. Felt more than that.

But the more she pondered over the memories since their meeting, the more she realized he had been growing increasingly considerate. Her every need had been catered to, in fact, he often regaled her with stories of history for hours on end, wrapped around her as the candles burned out, slender fingers running through the ends of her copper hair. 

The kind of tenderness he showed her was one the world would never see. 

She was suddenly acutely aware of her own self when the scent of woods that clung to the cloak made her stomach roll, and she realized how much she needed to bathe. She had spent quite a bit of time thinking everything over in the sitting room alone.

On a mission, she walked through the familiar halls of Thranduil’s chambers to her own, which were smaller and adjoined to his by a hidden archway. Looking around, everything was as she left it, not a thing touched in her absence. She pulled out a simple nightgown from the wardrobe and carried it over to the bed for after she washed. 

Undoing the clasp that held Legolas’s cloak on her shoulders, she folded it up as best she could and put it away for safe return to its owner. Her outer-coat needed a good brushing to get various bits of leaves and forest floor off it and she did so immediately. 

Her dress was next and that she placed in the basket of items to be laundered later. Breast band and shoes removed, she was comfortable at last and navigated the short stairs down to their shared washroom. A small pool of clean water was carved into the floor, constantly refreshing itself with water directly from the nearby stream and heated to a blissfully warm temperature. 

A collection of floral soaps waited on a nearby table and she selected the one she usually did, one reminiscent of fresh honey. The water welcomed her immediately, soothing sore muscles and washing the days of traveling off without a trace. 

Perhaps she dozed off a bit, shoulders resting along the edge, or maybe she lost track of time in the relaxation and tuned out everything else, but a sudden presence by her head jolted her alert. 

“Settle, róven er.” Thranduil’s smooth voice calmed her right down, using the nickname he’d given her long ago. Wild one. 

“My king.” She said softly in greeting, his thumb brushing away a stray strand of damp hair from her cheek. 

It was then she realized the king was on his knees, for her, and there was nothing sexual involved. Somehow, she had earned that. 

Thranduil stood to his full height and took a step back, hands reaching at the fastenings on his own regal robes, placing his crown atop the discarded attire. She couldn’t do more than watch, taking in the sight of the tall, commanding elf strip down to nothing before stepping into the pool to join her. 

“Thranduil.” She spoke his name, almost as an apology. 

“When we began this tryst of sorts, never did it cross my mind we would find ourselves in this circumstance.” His gaze was on the water between them, not directly on her. “Our meeting was fate. Alignment of time. Bringing you here was a choice. Hardly a conventional one. But the way I ached in your absence was beyond control.” She reached her hand for his and he looked her in the eye.

“The mere idea…” He chuffed with a light shake of his head. “Of a child, fills me with warmth.” 

“I didn’t know.” She admitted, raising her free hand to trace his jawline lightly. Affectionately. 

“But I am King,” Thranduil said with slightly more gravitas. “And my people expect a certain level of tradition.” 

Her stomach dropped and she looked away.

“Fret not, wild one.” He scooted closer to her in the water, drawing her attention back. “This Peredhel of ours will be cherished.” He took a deep breath. “The path ahead of us may be difficult but I am prepared to fight.” 

“So I raise my child as a bastard?” She frowned, an innocent child shamed was exactly what she didn’t want in the first place.

“There is an unclaimed title I can bestow.” He shook his head, eyes hopeful. “Lord of the Mountains of Mirkwood. It is a distinction that won’t challenge any existing noble elven house.” The king explained. “It is a long legend that there were once villages of humans there who welcomed any elven traveler before they moved to the lake lands.” 

“That way the child is within legend of humans while still claiming the title as an elf.” She sucked in a breath and blinked to keep from crying. “There is nothing better.” She bit her lip but the tears began to flow anyway. Thranduil reached out and drew her head to his chest, holding her close in assurance it would work. “As King, I can only title legitimately.” He started again, chest rumbling as he spoke, and she turned her eyes to his face.

“What does that mean?” 

“A betrothal ceremony in secret to someone of willing noble blood is imperative. The sooner the better.” He told her earnestly, then looked away insecurely. “Myself, if you’ll have me.” 

The words were completely unexpected. Had Thranduil just asked her to be his wife? Never mind in secret, but at all had her heart pounding. 

He looked at her expectantly for an answer and the only one she gave him was the immediate pressing of her lips to his. The water around them sloshed as she climbed across his lap, eager to show him the affection he was so clearly due. 

“Yes.” She gasped for air, grinning. “I would be honored.” Nearly the entire realm would perish for the opportunity to win the king’s favor, and here he was, freely offering it solely to her. 

“Tomorrow, then.” He offered.

“Tomorrow.” She agreed, butterflies in her stomach, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

The king smiled and his hands reached down to her hips to adjust the way she sat so that he might have a better angle from how she’d practically thrown herself haphazardly, legs folded beneath. She laughed and ran a hand through his hair, his pride, taking in his face for the millionth time. Except now she saw him for exactly who he was. Not the fierce warrior, not the king that ruled all of Mirkwood, nor the dominator in bed he thrived to be, but as her husband. Or soon to be. 

His blue eyes looked into hers and she dipped to kiss him deeper. He devoured her, she was wholly his. 

His hands wandered up her back, feeling every curve he’d claimed a hundred times over. She smiled against his lips and brought her own fingers across his chest, trailing down every pane of his toned and taut muscle submerged in the water, making him shudder at the intimate touch. 

She reached down further between them until the pads of her fingertips found Thranduil’s cock and wrapped around it, her lips peppering kisses along his cheek. His chest hummed pleasantly as she stroked, and it didn’t take one bit of effort before he was fully erect being as incredibly attracted to her as he was, his body in tune and accustomed to just her touch to set him off. 

Thranduil’s head fell back in pleasure when she quickened the pace, thumb swiping over the head once, twice. His own hips were starting to lift, just to match the rhythm of her strokes when he leaned forward and tugged at her hips upward, momentarily lifting her higher before penetrating her sex, earning a sharp gasp from her lips. 

His eyes were ravishing and smug as she moved her arms to reach around his neck and his replaced hers between them, a finger teasing at her clit while she adjusted. 

She kissed him again, as deep as before, making him lean back once more against the edge of the pool so she got the better angle from which to ride him, straddling his lap. 

She made quick work of riding out her pleasure, grinding down rhythmically amid the candlelight, the only noise their hastening breath and the water lapping. 

Faster, faster than it usually took due to the heightened sensitivity of pregnancy or perhaps the renewed emotional connection, she felt herself tumbling over the edge, giving in to the wave of electricity that raced through her nervous system, clenching tight to the Elvenking’s back as she let it come. 

Thranduil kept the pace as she unraveled, his hips thrusting in time to make up the difference. He liked to draw out the act of intercourse, bring in various instruments and techniques to pique and maximize pleasure, but at that moment, in the embrace of the loveliest maiden he knew, the one who was soon to be his betrothed, he toppled toward his end as well, breath heavy. His hips bucked twice, three times, and he was spent, seed buried deep within her. 

 

The next morning she woke in Thranduil’s bed rather than her own, the King already awake and dressing. He had a soft smile on his usually stoic face and noticed her staring. 

“Morning, róven er.” He said, finishing the clasps on his garment. Also usually, he had servants to tend to his every minute need, but that morning he had requested privacy. 

“Morning.” She returned the greeting and rose with a stretch. Coming to a stand, she brushed down her nightgown and started to her chambers, not before pulling Thranduil down for a quick affectionate kiss. 

Stood in front of her wardrobe, which had been filled with various attire, a combination of her own pickings and gifts from Thranduil and the few friends she’d made. Nothing was exactly wedding attire, but the pale blue silk dress she hadn’t had occasion yet to wear would work well. 

Sliding it on and tying the lacing in the back, her small stomach wasn’t easily visible, hidden by intricately sewn leaves and floral decor. 

The king joined her as she finished brushing out her hair, and stood tall in the arch of the doorway. 

“Legolas, Tauriel, and Brûndaer will serve witness.”

“Very well.” She nodded, Tauriel had become a friend immediately, and Brûndaer was Thranduil’s most trusted guard. 

“Ready?” He extended his palm once she was finished and she nodded, accepting it. Walking hand in hand with the Elvenking of Mirkwood was a powerful moment, and she still couldn’t believe what was about to happen. 

In the sitting room were the aforementioned attendees, each nodding in respect to their monarch. Legolas gave her a smirk once he straightened back up, clearly pleased with the decision his father had come to. Tauriel looked amused but she knew the elf was a supporter given her own history with a dwarf named Kíli. 

“I assure we all know the importance of keeping this ceremony clandestine?” Thranduil commanded the guests rather than asked, which was met with a nod. 

“This betrothal will be written in the records and sealed for validity,” Brûndaer informed them all, a blessing in his own way. 

There wasn’t much more to either custom than an exchange of a few words and a symbolic item by a witness, and so such an informal setting was perfect. 

Thranduil let go of her hand and turned to face her fully, and she did the same, meeting his gaze. He looked regal, his traditional woodland crown traded for his silver battle one, subtler yet signifying his intentions to go to battle for her. There was a pause and she looked down with a breath before the King spoke, voice confident and true. He spoke the traditional Wood-elven Sindarin words repeated time and time again over the centuries and she knew her line in turn. 

“Gi melin, ah ídhron gi mestad. Ma i innas gîn?” With his words, he took both her hands, a tremble so small she wasn’t sure which one of them it was coming from.

“Ind nîn be ind gîn. bestathanc!” She beamed at the last word, the one that bound them together. 

He let go long enough to reach into his pocket and take out a necklace meant for her, a tiny but brilliant white gem on a slender chain worth more than everything she had combined, and slid it over her head, pressing a kiss to her temples as he did. 

She gasped at the sight of it around her neck, and tucked the end of it in the collar of her dress, keeping it close. 

She nervously took out her necklace for him out of her dress pocket, she had slipped it in as she got ready, and presented it to Thranduil. Next to him, it felt inadequate. Just a simple, flat river stone she’d carved into and placed on a thin string of leather, but it was something she’d made her self years ago, and anything else wouldn’t have been right. But he nodded in acceptance and she slipped it over his head in turn. 

He, too, tucked it into his garment, and with a chuckle pulled her close in a kiss, forgetting their small audience.

“Ah elio din Eru!” Legolas’s blessing brought them back, and she laughed at the embarrassment blatant on the other elf’s face. There was only one thought in her head as she looked at her husband. It didn’t matter what would come ahead, everything would be alright.

 

___________________________  
Translation of that last part:   
I love you, and I want to marry you. What is your will?  
My will is like your will. We shall wed!  
May Eru the Father of All bless them!


End file.
